


Tasting the Desperation in Your Sweat

by Count_B



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-08
Updated: 2008-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 21:35:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28660314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Count_B/pseuds/Count_B
Summary: Pete is like nothing that's ever happened to Mikey before, something unreal and unfamiliar and worth every minute.
Relationships: Mikey Way/Pete Wentz
Kudos: 2





	Tasting the Desperation in Your Sweat

"Oh, hey there, Mikey. I have someone I'd like you to meet. _In my pants._ ”  
  
That was so classy he would have known it was Pete Wentz even if he wasn’t staring right at Pete’s waggling eyebrows. Because Pete was smooth like that. He had _moves_.  
  
Mikey, unfortunately, didn't agree. When Pete told him this, he laughed until he cried.  
  
Pete kind of kicked his shoe. "Fuck you, I was being sincere. You totally want me."  
  
Which only made Mikey laugh more. It was true, he did, but Pete was adorable when he sulked like this. His pout was too big to be _real_. And he did the whole emo thing - hands shoved into pockets, hair covering one eye, hood of hoodie up - so well.  
  
Mikey smiled at Pete when he was done laughing, the last giggles slowly escaping. The sun was on its way down and he hoped it would cool off a little. The world, Pete, was painted red and orange; it almost looked like he was glowing. Or blushing.  
  
Swinging his arm, Mikey bumped against Pete to see him look up, studying his face like maybe he could read Mikey better than Mikey could read himself. He almost wished Pete could; it would be nice to have someone translate for him. But Pete didn’t seem to understand the answers he found until Mikey caught his hand, squeezing his fingers.  
  
Nobody could resist Pete, not really. Not even if they wanted to. Mikey didn’t really want to, but he knew he should, on some level.  
  
It was easy to get caught up in summer, in lightweight jackets and sunglasses, outdoor stages and heatwaves rippling in the air. Easy to get lost in Pete’s high-fives and quick kisses, the way his tongue just barely brushed Mikey’s lips before he pulled away laughing.  
  
Most days felt like a mirage, a feverish daydream that was beyond what he could have come up with on his own. He watched his brother onstage as they played and Mikey only felt like that was more true; Gerard in the summer had never been like this before.  
  
Mikey watched as long summer afternoons melted together like ice in the coolers of bottled water and soda sitting outside half the buses.  
  
Late nights out and early mornings up were hard, but Mikey couldn’t say no to Pete’s secrets, to the words he sent when he thought no one was listening. It was almost like magic sometimes, the way they fit together.  
  
Other days Pete was broken and shaky and his words jarred against each other. Mikey tried to smooth them out for him. He wasn’t a writer though, so it was better to distract him until his head resettled. It was something he’d gotten good at over the years with Gerard, but it didn’t work quite the same with Pete.  
  
Then again, his way of distracting Gerard never included lips sliding over his shoulderblades or fingers dancing over the outlines of tattoos. Pete sometimes just needed to be touched, even if he didn’t outright ask for it.  
  
Mikey’s touches were careful, never more than Pete needed. Every time he touched Pete, it felt like he was leaving a little bit of himself behind to get washed away in the next shower he found.  
  
But it seemed like the more he touched Pete, the more touching Pete needed and Mikey was starting to wonder if he even had any of himself left or if Pete had washed it all away. Touching and teasing crossed lines and Mikey didn’t even notice he was breaking promises he made to himself until it was too late.  
  
He got lost in the shine and whirls of Pete, of throbbing bass and a grin he could feel pressed against his skin. Pete made him feel alive, like he mattered, like he was wanted more than he was needed. Like maybe he could be that for someone else. It was a high he couldn’t pull himself down from, didn’t know there was anything else to focus on anyhow.  
  
Not until Pete was spread out under him, all overconfident smiles lying across his face to hide the fact Pete wasn’t as sure of himself as he wanted to be. But it was hard to figure out what that really meant, because Pete was a master of subterfuge and was better at lying to himself than he was at maybe anything else.  
  
Pete could lie with his whole body; even with all his clothes off, Mikey couldn’t tell what he really meant and what he didn’t. He wasn’t sure it mattered. It seemed like it should, but Pete wanted to mean what his body was saying and it was easier to sway with him and find new places on him, places that didn’t mean anything yet.  
  
He couldn’t stop touching Pete's body with his lips, his tongue, gentle touches that probably tickled more than anything. Not like kissing exactly, but something else. His mouth wouldn't stay away. And he wasn’t touching Pete at all really. Other than with his mouth. It wasn’t obscene, which made it even more explicit somehow. Sex would have been less sexual, less charged.  
  
Something was building in the air, thick with static like the weather. It was so hot, so thick, they couldn’t breathe. But even the crackles of heat lightning weren’t enough to let it go. Pete was antsy, warm hands uncomfortably pressing against Mikey’s arm, his sides, asking for something neither of them could put in words.  
  
Mikey fucked him fast and desperate, biting his lip to keep quiet. The summer night was hot even inside, and he could feel the hours trickling away like the sweat running down his back.  
  
In the dark it was like none of this was real, like nothing Pete could say would make this more than an echo, a dream, a b-movie he was living. In the dark, Pete was just his, like a secret or an imaginary friend. Touching him almost made it real, but when Pete’s teeth weren’t leaving marks on his shoulder, his stomach, Mikey half forgot this was actually happening.  
  
His life had never been sunsets and laughter like this, and he wanted to hide it and keep it safe. Pete was as exciting as the waterparks they’d been going to, but sometimes Mikey felt like he was at the top of the slide and the pool had been drained. With Pete there was always something happening.  
  
He didn’t seem to have quiet and Mikey didn’t know if that was because it was summer or just because Pete didn’t know how. He made his own fun, he made his own drama. If it was a melty day where Mikey just wanted to bask in the shade under a pair of sunglasses, odds were Pete was going to find him and start yelling about nothing.  
  
Sometimes Mikey ignored it, waited for Pete to quiet down and slump against his side, smelling vaguely of sweat and sunscreen. Pete seemed to get even more mad when he did that though, so Mikey started yelling back. He never quite knew what they were fighting about, but he could feel it tangling in his gut and he tried to ignore it because he wanted to make Pete happy, even if that meant he had to make him mad to do it.  
  
The summer was starting to feel too long, like stretched out bubble gum or melting ropes of taffy. Like it was going to snap if it lasted much longer. Everything was taut and tense and Mikey was pretty sure for all their words and reassurances, none of this was going to snap back to the way it was before when the tour ended.  
  
Pete was sharp and vicious and he played with an intensity that left him covered in sweat and his fingers torn. He broke strings like he broke hearts and avoided cameras like he was afraid they’d steal his soul and all his memories of the past weeks.  
  
Mikey didn’t want things to end, but everything was turning jagged and dangerous and he wasn’t sure he could stop it even if he tried. And he didn’t know how to try, so he just watched, reacted like he was saying the lines Pete had given him.  
  
Maybe Pete needed the release, but every argument made Mikey feel jingly and broken inside and he only got more frustrated because everything was moving faster, and the quiet lazy moments were shorter and shorter. He could feel Pete driving him away as hard as he could, and it was worse because whenever Pete wasn’t pushing, he was clinging to Mikey more than before.  
  
Going from one extreme to the other was hard. It hurt like touching cold signposts or a hot pan, a flash so sharp he couldn’t tell if it was hot or cold, just that he didn’t want to feel it. But he couldn’t tell Pete no more, not when there was still summer left to be had. Not as long as Pete kept coming back, slipping into Mikey’s bunk with a fierce grin like he was expecting a no.  
  
He bit deeper, licking his lips like he could keep Mikey forever that way. At least, that was what Mikey thought to himself as his hips pressed against Pete’s again because he knew things weren’t going to make it much longer and every thought that stung was going to be a memory.  
  
If that was all he got, he wanted every single one, even if they were wrong, even if they were hard to think on. Even if they were the blur of fights, of Pete slipping away while Mikey was asleep.  
  
Mikey couldn’t remember the last time, because it was so much like the others. That maybe hurt most of all, when he thought about it. He’d thought Pete would be back, but he wasn’t. Not for that last week.  
  
During the last week, Mikey went through strings like his fingers were made of something sharp and he was quiet, even for him. It would be easier. Later it would get easier, he told himself.

**Author's Note:**

> just moving fic from lj, haven't reread, hopefully it's still enjoyable.


End file.
